Where He Belongs
by Vol lady
Summary: While suffering a serious fever, Jarrod stops breathing. There are complications after he recovers but it starts to look like they're not really bad ones at all.
1. Chapter 1

Where He Belongs

Chapter 1

He was hot, he was cold, he was sweating and he couldn't remember why. "Get me another cloth," he vaguely heard his mother say and soon one cloth was removed from his forehead and a cooler one took its place.

His family was with him, all of them, because he was very ill, critically ill. Some infection, the doctor said, but he couldn't tell where it came from. Maybe just some insect, maybe some break in the skin he didn't even know was there, but now he had a fever that was so high he didn't even know where he was.

Nick looked at his brother in the bed, and when Jarrod began to pull at the blankets and groan and thrash about, he said, "Heath – hold onto him, don't let him get out of hand." On the other side of the bed, Heath held him down by the left arm and shoulder while Nick held him down by the right. In the meantime, Audra gave their mother dampened cloths and Victoria tried to bathe the sweat from his face and chest. He struggled and moaned and tried to push them off, but Nick and Heath kept hold of him, keeping him from hurting himself or anyone else.

And then it happened. He stopped struggling. His eyes cleared for just a moment and grew brighter. He inhaled sharply, and stopped breathing.

"Jarrod – " Victoria tried.

Nothing. Jarrod wasn't breathing.

Nick shook him, crying, "Jarrod!" and he and Heath moved to try to push on his chest, to get him to breathe, to get his heart to beat. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be dead.

He didn't breathe. He didn't breathe. Long seconds went by and he didn't breathe. But then suddenly he inhaled sharply again, and the craziness was back in his eyes, but he was breathing. Hard, fast, but breathing.

Victoria slumped, crying, but just for a moment. "We need ice," she said.

"I'll get it," Audra said and hurried out.

Then they were immediately back to bathing his face and chest in cool water. They had to get that fever down. Please, dear God, we have to get it down.

XXXXXXXX

Two weeks later….

Alone in the library, Jarrod was doing more thinking than reading. For a long time he sat behind the desk and looked out of the French doors, even though the opaque curtain sheers obscured his view. Then for a while he got up and roamed the room, looking at objects he hadn't paid any attention to in a while, picking them up, putting them back down again. He stood by the mantle and looked into the empty fireplace for a time, thinking. Or maybe it was more like feeling than thinking. He wasn't sure about the difference anymore.

He didn't even hear the buggy come up to the house, and when Victoria's voice at the door to the library said, "Jarrod?" he didn't hear her at first either. She came in closer and called him again. He turned from the fireplace and saw her, and Dr. Merar with her.

"Oh, hello, Doctor," Jarrod said, and just stood there.

Dr. Merar extended his hand, saying, "Just checking up on you. Doctor's prerogative, you know."

Jarrod looked at the doctor's hand and reached to shake it, but to him it was like reaching for a shadow. He finally managed it and shook hands with him as Victoria said, "I'll talk to you later, Doctor," and left.

"Is Mother that worried?" Jarrod asked, motioning the doctor to sit down on the sofa. He sat himself down in one of the chairs.

"Well, you did give your family quite a scare when you were ill," Dr. Merar said. "How have you been feeling?"

Jarrod took a deep breath. "I'm fine," he said. He thought about saying something else, but he wasn't sure what.

But Dr. Merar wasn't convinced. "No fever, I take it then," he said anyway.

"No, no fever," Jarrod said.

"Well, then," Dr. Merar said, "let's get straight to the point. Your mother says that while you seem to have your physical strength coming back, you've been quite distracted since you came out of that fever. I tried to tell her that it's not unusual to be a bit disoriented for a while after something like that, but she's worried it's something more. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Jarrod sighed. "There's not much to tell. I'm still a bit tired, a little bit foggy."

"Not unusual," Dr. Merar said, "but you did have a very unusual event while you were sick."

"Yes," Jarrod said, and seemed faded again. "I died."

"Well, medically, no, you didn't die. You're still here. But is that what you think happened?"

Jarrod tried to look at the doctor, but it was like seeing him through that opaque curtain sheer at the French door. He tried to think of words to describe what he thought and how he felt, but they wouldn't come. He could think, just very slowly and disjointedly. Everything around him seemed to be about ten feet away from where it should have been. In another era, he'd have said he felt like he had severe jet lag, but no one knew there could be such a thing in the 1870s. "That's what did happen," Jarrod ended up saying. "I died, and didn't die."

The doctor was struggling to get sensible thoughts out of his patient. "You know you were very feverish."

"I know. It's hard to explain."

"Is your thinking unclear?"

"No, not unclear. But what happened – " Jarrod swallowed, frowning. He spoke unusually slowly. "I felt terrible – feverish – hot and cold, for I don't know how long. But then, somewhere in the middle of it, I felt a calm come over me. I was very calm, very comfortable, very content – almost like I was floating. Then very suddenly I felt like I was sucked back into that body and I was sick again."

Dr. Merar remembered his family describing what they saw happening to him while he was most feverish. That sudden calm, and the stopping of his breathing, then when they feared he was gone, the gasp of breath.

Jarrod tried again, but it was an effort and he didn't know why. "I don't know what it was, but ever since then I've been different."

"Different how?"

Jarrod took a deep breath, tried to find the right words, but could only come up with, "I don't belong here anymore."

Dr. Merar made a face. He didn't know what to say at first, but then he remembered something. "Jarrod, do you remember a while back when you came to me after being hurt up toward Rockville, when you had amnesia?"

Jarrod nodded slowly.

"Is that the way you feel now?" the doctor asked.

Jarrod thought about it. "No. I know who I am. I just feel like I should be somewhere else. I feel like even though I'm sitting here talking to you – even though I know this is my home – I feel like I should be somewhere else. I feel like I don't belong here."

Dr. Merar thought about that. His first thought was that the high fever had done some brain damage, but how to say that to a man who lived by his brain, by his mind? How do you tell him he might be irreparably injured and forever without his full faculties? And if he had suffered brain damage, would he even be able to understand if the doctor told him he thought so?

Dr. Merar decided to be plain and simple. "Jarrod, a high fever can leave a patient with some damage to the brain."

"I know that," Jarrod said, "but this doesn't feel like damage. I just feel like – " He fumbled for words again. "Like I'm always supposed to be somewhere other than where I am. I don't belong here."

"Where do you think you belong?"

"I don't know. Just not here."

The doctor took a deep breath. He had never had a patient tell him anything like this. Of course, he had patients who acted disjointed and confused, but he never had one of them tell him that the way they actually felt was something like what Jarrod had just told him. When they were injured in that way, they didn't know it. Jarrod knew it.

He had also never had a patient who had stopped breathing for that long and started up again like that. He had heard from other doctors about patients who seemed to have died but woke up and were changed somehow by the experience. He'd had one or two whose breathing had paused for just a moment, but not someone who knew it had happened when he recovered. Not someone who could describe the experience. Jarrod Barkley was proving to be baffling, and Dr. Merar was struggling with what to say to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dr. Merar tried to think about what Jarrod had told him, and he could understand a couple things solidly. Jarrod had suffered a spell of not breathing while he was ill, and he knew it. Now, he felt fine physically, but he felt as if he were somewhere he didn't belong. The doctor decided what to say and hoped Jarrod would understand it. "I think you could have suffered some slight brain damage from that fever, Jarrod. What you're describing is consistent with the brain being damaged. I wish there were something I could do for you, but time is the only thing that can heal an injury like that. Are you having any pain?"

Jarrod shook his head. "No."

"Are you light-headed at all?"

"Maybe a little foggy. Mostly just that I'm not where I belong." Then, suddenly, Jarrod smiled. "I'm not a lot of help, am I?"

Dr. Merar had to chuckle. "I don't think there's anything to worry about, so long as you don't feel a compulsion to actually go someplace else."

Jarrod shook his head. "I don't."

"Do you feel frantic or panicky in any way?"

"No," Jarrod said.

"Unhappy? Sorrowful?"

"No," Jarrod repeated. "Calm, and out of place."

"Well, let me just suggest that if you do start feeling any of those things, or if you do feel some compulsion to go somewhere unexplainable – you tell someone right away. I don't want to see you accidentally walk out in front of a wagon or off the upper edge of the stairway."

Dr. Merar stood up, and Jarrod stood, too. Dr. Merar extended his hand again, and again Jarrod looked at it like he was seeing a shadow. But he shook the doctor's hand again.

Jarrod walked Dr. Merar to the door. "I'll do that. Thanks for coming, Doctor."

Jarrod stayed in the library. Dr. Merar took a look at him as he left, and noticed that his patient was wandering over to the French door and staring through the curtain. The doctor really was worried about this, but he had been worried about something like it happening ever since Jarrod had suffered that very high fever. In a way, this was not as bad as it could have been. Dr. Merar decided that was the way he would present it to Victoria – not as bad as it could have been.

Victoria was alone in the living room, sewing at the settee. Sort of sewing. Dr. Merar came over to her, and she stood up anxiously, her face full of one question – is he all right?

Dr. Merar tried a smile. "I don't think you need to be as worried as you obviously are, Victoria," he said. "He had a very high fever and bit of a bad turn while it was happening. He's still a bit disoriented."

Victoria said, "Is this a permanent state? Is he going to straighten out again?"

Dr. Merar knew he couldn't even stretch the truth with Victoria. She always knew if he tried that. "Here's what he said to me, and here's what I think is happening."

The doctor sat her down again on the settee and sat beside her.

"He says he is feeling somewhat foggy," the doctor went on. "The way he described it is that he feels like he doesn't belong here."

"Doesn't belong here?" Victoria said.

"He feels like he should be somewhere else. And it's probably related to the spell he had while he was sick, when he stopped breathing for a few moments. He remembers that. He remembers feeling feverish and sick, and then suddenly he felt calm and contented, and then just as suddenly he felt himself being sucked back into his sickness. He believes he actually died for a moment."

Victoria was stunned. She didn't know how to take that at all.

"I've heard other doctors describe spells like that with their very ill patients," the doctor went on. "We don't really know what it is, but I think it's what has left Jarrod feeling out of place. If it is some sort of damage done to the brain by the fever or the spell of not breathing, it may improve over time. There's no treatment for it. We just have to wait to see if it improves. If it's just a feeling that Jarrod's been left with because he remembers the spell he had – well, it may not go away, but knowing your son, he will cope with it. As soon as he figures out how to do it, he will cope."

Victoria took it in. She calmly asked, "Will he be able to work as an attorney again?"

"In time, perhaps," Dr. Merar said. "I don't want you to feel like I'm saying he's always going to feel out of place like this. I think it will ease off. I just can't guarantee that. But even if the sensation doesn't go away, the chances are good that he will learn to cope with it. And yes, in time, he may very well get back to practicing law."

Victoria let it sink in. She knew the doctor was trying to make her feel better, but somehow, that wasn't happening. She just kept hearing that Jarrod didn't feel like he belonged here. How were they supposed to deal with that?

As if he understood what she was afraid of, Dr. Merar said, "Just treat him like you always have. He's your son. Whether he feels like he belongs here or not, he does belong here. Treat him that way and it will help him get better, and it will help him cope even if he isn't healing."

Victoria gave an uncomfortable smile and patted the doctor's hand. "Is there anything else we can do for him?"

"Let me know if he begins to act on these feelings that he doesn't belong here, but I don't think that's going to happen. He's not insane. He's rational. Be patient," the doctor said. "Be consoled that he doesn't feel bad. He has no pain, no depression, no ill feeling aside from feeling out of place, and that's not much, not when you consider how sick he was a couple weeks ago."

Victoria finally gave a smile. It was tough to describe what the doctor said to her family when they all were home. They listened to what she said, and then they pretty much looked at each other, not sure what to say, not sure what they'd heard. Ever blunt, Nick put it into words first. "So, he thinks he died. And he thinks he should still be dead."

"I suppose that's one way of putting it," Victoria said, shocked by the way Nick put it but yes, that was probably as accurate a way of saying it as any.

"Maybe not dead," Heath said. "Maybe just out of place?"

"That's another way of putting it," Victoria said.

"Well, he just has to get well over time," Audra said. "I mean, he's only been out of bed for a week, and he was very sick."

"Yes, he was," Victoria said. "And for a bit there, he did stop breathing."

Nobody wanted to remember that, but they all knew it was true. They were all there. They all felt the screaming panic when they thought he had died.

"What can we do for him?" Nick asked.

Victoria sighed. "The doctor says we should treat him like we always treat him, and that over time he'll either get better or he'll adjust. We only need to be concerned if he begins to act on these feelings of not belonging here, but the doctor doesn't think that will happen."

Jarrod came into the parlor from the library just then and headed for the scotch, but he didn't say anything to them. He didn't think it might have been him they were gathered to talk about, and he didn't know what to talk about himself.

As he poured a drink, Nick came over to him. "I hear the doctor came out today. How are you feeling?"

"Better than I was last week," Jarrod said. And then he stared straight ahead, out the far window. Just like he had done lately, he went off somewhere in his head, as if nobody else was there.

"Did the doctor say when you could go back to work?" Nick asked.

Jarrod took a sip of his drink and didn't answer.

"Jarrod?" Nick asked.

"Hm?" Jarrod said. "Oh, I guess when I feel up to it."

Nick gave a glance to the rest of the family and poured his own drink as Jarrod wandered off to his thinking chair. Jarrod sat down, staring into the fireplace.

Nick came away from the refreshment table. Everyone looked at each other, uncomfortably. Sitting down on the settee, Audra started to take the doctor's advice and treat him like she always did – someone who enjoyed hearing her idle chatter.

But he didn't react to it. No one was sure if he even heard it, but Audra kept it up. She didn't know that Jarrod did hear it playing at the edge of where he thought he ought to be, rather than here. She wasn't saying anything he was inclined to react to, though, so he didn't.

When Silas called them to dinner, Jarrod got up with the rest of them. Victoria took his arm, and he smiled to her as they walked into the dining room together, but once the blessing was given and they began to eat, he just ate his dinner, just like he had been doing for days.

Victoria tried to hold onto what the doctor had said – he would heal, or he would cope. But when she looked at him all she saw was emptiness, and she thought that if he didn't feel like he belonged here, he was off wherever it was he felt like he belonged. Even though the conversation continued among her other children at the table, she began to lose track of it until someone called her attention to it. She joined back in, and she tried to draw Jarrod in.

But Jarrod felt far away. The most he could muster was an occasional "Hmm." He wasn't frightened, he wasn't worried. He was calm. He just wasn't where he was supposed to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

After dinner, Jarrod lit a cigar and wandered out onto the verandah. It was a moonless night, full of stars. He stared and stared. The stars were beautiful.

"Don't go wandering too far," he heard Nick's voice come up behind him.

Jarrod didn't say anything at first, just kept staring at the stars, until out of the blue he said, "It would be nice to fly up there for a while."

There wasn't any sense of depression there, no sense of longing. Just a statement. It still bothered Nick to hear him say it, given what he'd told the doctor. "It's a little far for me," Nick said and puffed on his own cigar.

Jarrod didn't say anything.

"You feel up to telling me about it, Pappy?" Nick finally asked.

"About what?" Jarrod asked.

"About how you're feeling. About what happened when you were sick."

"Hmm," Jarrod said.

"We thought we lost you there for a minute," Nick said. "Did we lose you?"

"Hmm," Jarrod said again. "You want to talk about what I told the doctor."

"Yeah," Nick said, a little surprised Jarrod had come back down to earth even enough to say that.

Jarrod said, "You did lose me there for a minute. I was gone, off somewhere, I don't know where. Now it feels like I never quite made it all the way back."

"That's upsetting you," Nick said.

"No, actually it's not," Jarrod said. "It's upsetting you."

Nick felt a little jolt. That simple statement – it's upsetting you – made Jarrod seem more connected to reality than he had been since he got sick. Nick went with it. "We're just wondering how to get you back, Jarrod."

"Hmm," Jarrod said. His most common expression these days. But he didn't follow up. He just looked up at the stars.

"Tell you what," Nick said. "Heath and I are heading out to the Bigelow ranch tomorrow to take a look at a couple yearling colts. Why don't you come with us?"

"Hmm," Jarrod said again.

"It'll just take a few hours. Be good for you. Fresh air, wind in your face. No real work in it. What do you say?"

"Hmm," Jarrod said one more time.

Nick was getting more worried, not less. Did Jarrod even hear him?

But it sank in. Jarrod thought getting out might feel good. He said, "All right."

Nick smiled and gave him a slap on the arm. Jarrod didn't seem to notice. He was still looking at the stars.

XXXXXXX

It took some talking, but Nick and Heath convinced Victoria and Audra that they'd take good care of Jarrod if he went to the Bigelow ranch with them. It wasn't that far a trip, they said, and with two of them keeping an eye out for him, he'd be fine. He wasn't that lost anyway – just a little off kilter. Victoria made them promise they would not let him near a firearm, which both Nick and Heath thought was a bit much, but Jarrod had overheard the conversation, and he piped up.

"I wasn't planning on carrying a gun," Jarrod said. "I don't need one."

"There," Nick said. "He's got his wits about him. He's not as out of things as you think he is. Right, Jarrod?"

"Right, Nick," Jarrod said but was not inclined to say anything more.

He'd been in his thinking chair staring at the fireplace while the rest of his family, in the foyer, talked about him behind his back. He didn't mind. One of the advantages of feeling out of place, Jarrod discovered, was that he didn't really mind much about anything. That calm, that sense of contentment that had come over him when he had his "spell" while feverish was staying with him.

The next day, the three Barkley brothers took off early, heading for the Bigelow ranch that was about an hour away, farther away from Stockton. The weather was pleasant, not too hot and not too cool, sunny with a light breeze. Nick and Heath chatted away. Jarrod was quiet, listening to something else. Even he wasn't sure what it was he was listening to.

"So I said to her, 'Margie, you have to understand, I'm a free man and I like it that way,'" Nick was saying, continuing a long story about his relationship with a girl at Harry's saloon.

"How'd she take that?" Heath asked.

"Not well, but she was back beside me fifteen minutes later," Nick said.

Heath chuckled. "I don't think you're ever gonna get rid of her, Nick. I think you could probably say straight to her face that you were never gonna get involved with her because you don't like her, and it wouldn't make any difference."

"Probably not," Nick said, "but I'm hoping some of the other girls will give her the message."

Jarrod suddenly held up, stopping, looking around. It took a moment for Nick and Heath to realize he wasn't with them anymore. They stopped, turned and saw him sitting there in the middle of the road, looking off the side of the road, both sides.

"Is something wrong, Jarrod?" Heath asked.

Jarrod said, "Yes. Something."

He was looking all around. Nick and Heath came back to him. "What is it?" Nick asked.

"I don't know," Jarrod said. "Something. Don't you hear it?"

Nick and Heath looked at each other. "I don't hear anything," Nick said.

"What do you hear?" Heath asked.

Jarrod shook his head. "I don't know. Something. Breath."

"Breath?" Nick asked.

"Something breathing," Jarrod said. "Not a person. Not a horse. Something."

Nick and Heath just looked at each other, and then they slowly drew their guns. "Animal?" Heath asked.

"Something," Jarrod said.

"Which way?" Nick asked.

"I don't know," Jarrod said.

Neither Nick nor Heath heard anything, but Jarrod was still acting like he did. It was scaring them. "Let's keep going, just slow down," Heath said.

"Come on, Pappy," Nick said.

They moved on together, more slowly and more quietly. They traveled that way for a good mile or two. Nothing ever approached them, and they never saw anything unusual. Nick and Heath were just about to chalk it up to the wind, but Jarrod was still eerie, still looking odd. He didn't give any thought about what Nick and Heath might be thinking as they looked at him warily. Jarrod closed his eyes.

"Do you still hear it, Jarrod?" Heath asked.

Jarrod nodded but kept moving. "Yes. It's the same. Breathing. Something breathing."

Now Nick and Heath looked at each other, worried. _He's hallucinating,_ was in their eyes. "We best get on to the Bigelow's," Nick said, at least ready to act like Jarrod was really hearing something. "If we got a cat or something after us, we better get to someplace with more people."

They still took it a bit slow, unwilling to tempt something that might start chasing them if it looked like they were running, and unwilling to risk Jarrod falling behind them. Jarrod stayed alert and looking around, but when the Bigelow place came in sight, he seemed to ease up a bit. When he did, Nick and Heath did. They rode up to the house and dismounted as Mr. Bigelow came out.

"You all right now?" Heath asked his oldest brother.

Jarrod nodded, not alert anymore, and not alarmed. He had never been alarmed, just very vigilant. Now he eased off.

Nick and Heath still gave each other worried looks. Either something had been following them out there, or Jarrod had moved off into that mystery world of his again. Neither prospect was one they wanted to have to deal with, and for now they let it go. For now they were safe, ready to look at a couple of yearling colts.

But they still kept half an eye on their older brother, because he was still looking around as if he was looking for something no one else could see.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Ewing Bigelow was a man about five years older than Jarrod, with a wife and a son named Randy about 17 years old who helped him run the ranch. Randy had one of the colts Nick and Heath were interested in out in one of the corrals, leading him around a little while Bigelow and the Barkley men watched from over the corral fence.

"They're both on the wild side," Bigelow explained. "Same sire, different mares, but they both got the old man's temperament."

The colt was a bit unruly but not much more than any other colt that age would have been. "Mind if I have a closer look?" Nick asked.

"Go right ahead," Bigelow said.

Nick climbed over the corral fence and walked slowly up to the animal, saying, "Hi, Randy, how are you?" as he did.

Heath stayed back with Bigelow and Jarrod. Bigelow was smiling as he looked at the colt, while Nick ran his hands over it and the colt snorted uncomfortably. He bucked a little, but not much, and Nick easily dodged it. Randy got the colt settled again quickly.

Jarrod had been quiet all this time, but he started to move off to his left, toward the far end of the corral, drawing Heath's attention. "Where you off to?" Heath asked.

Jarrod didn't answer but kept on moving, slowly.

"What's up with him today?" Bigelow asked. "He's as quiet as a corpse."

"He's still getting over being really sick a couple weeks ago," Heath explained. "He had a rough time of it."

"What was wrong with him?"

"Bad fever. We never knew why. Jarrod!"

Jarrod stopped but did not turn or even begin to come back. He stood there, either listening again or off in his own head again. Heath couldn't tell which, but he wasn't inclined to get overly attentive toward his oldest brother. He just kept an eye on him.

Jarrod was both listening and off in his own head. Something was getting through the fog. Something. But it didn't work if he tried to hear it. He had to _not_ try to hear it. He had to let it come to him.

In a moment, while Nick was still examining the colt, Jarrod came back and said sharply, quietly, "It's a cat. Get that colt back in the barn."

Bigelow looked confused, but then he called Randy and motioned him to take the colt back into the barn. Confused, Nick came over to the corral fence, asking, "What's wrong?"

"Jarrod heard a cat," Heath said. "Did you see it?"

"No," Jarrod said. "But I heard the breathing, and I heard a whine."

Nick looked around. "Where from?"

Jarrod nodded toward the rocky wooded area beyond the corral. "Up there."

Bigelow looked around, making sure there were no animals or people on their own anywhere nearby. Randy came out of the barn and headed their way. "What's going on?" Randy asked.

"A cat would never come into the yard," Bigelow was saying.

"Unless it was sick or really hungry," Nick said.

"A cat?" Randy asked.

"Go get a couple of the men," Bigelow said. "Check it out up there."

Randy leapt the fence and headed toward the house.

Bigelow said, "Why don't you boys come inside and have a drink while Randy checks this out?"

The Barkley men followed Bigelow into the house. Bigelow's wife, Bella, heard them come in and met them in the foyer as the men were all leaving their hats and gloves on a table there. "Hello!" she said. "It's good to see you fellas."

"It's good to see you, too, Bella," Nick said.

"It seems we might have a cat out there checking out the yard," Bigelow said. "I sent Randy to take a couple men to have a look before these men spend any more time checking out those colts."

"Can I get you anything?" Bella asked.

"We'll just have a drink in the study," Bigelow said.

He barely got the words out before they heard several rifle shots from the hillside Randy had just headed off to. "It sounds like they found something," Nick said.

They grabbed their hats and gloves and hurried back outside, Jarrod lagging a bit behind but following. They looked but didn't see anyone moving on the hillside at first, but in a few moments, one man was coming down, and then Randy and another man. The last two were dragging the corpse of a cougar.

"I'll be," Nick said quietly.

Randy and the other man deposited the dead cougar at the edge of the yard, way beyond the corral. Bigelow and the Barkleys joined them there. The cougar was skin and bone, and its eyes were red.

"We better bury him off a ways," Randy said. "I don't know what he's got, but we don't want it around here."

"Are you boys all right?" Bigelow asked.

"Yeah," Randy nodded. "We got a look at him and took him before he got near any of us."

"Just bury him back into the flat woods over there," Bigelow said, "and clean up good after you do. Burn those clothes you're wearing. I don't want to take any chances. I'll foot the bill for new ones."

Randy and the other two men took the cougar off into the wooded area Bigelow had pointed to. Jarrod watched them, even as Bigelow turned and looked at him, then at Nick and Heath, then back at Jarrod.

"I don't know how you knew he was out there, but I'm grateful you did," Bigelow said.

Without looking his way, Jarrod said, "I heard him."

"Is that what you heard following us here?" Nick asked.

Jarrod nodded, but didn't say anything, just watched the men drag the cougar into the woods.

Nick looked at Heath with raised eyebrows. Heath looked back, both of them wondering how Jarrod heard that cat and they never did. Jarrod just kept watching the woods.

XXXXXXX

"I don't know how he heard it," Nick finished telling the story to his mother and sister when they got home. "That cat was sick and starving. He could have come down and jumped me and Randy and that colt, and we'd have been in a world of hurt, but Jarrod heard him."

"We had our minds on that colt, Nick," Heath said.

"But we didn't when we were on our way there," Nick said. "Jarrod heard that cat follow us for miles and we never heard it at all. He _heard_ a _cat!"_

Jarrod was still upstairs cleaning up. Audra gave a glance up that way and said, "I guess he's not as distracted as we thought he was."

"Well, the whole thing is downright spooky," Nick said.

"Spooky?" Victoria said. "Why do you call it spooky?"

"He _heard_ a _cat!"_ Nick repeated. "We think he's off in his own head somewhere all the time, but he's hearing things we don't hear and I'll bet he's seeing things we don't see, too, things that are actually there. That's spooky."

"Maybe he's just not getting distracted by the regular things we're getting distracted by," Heath said. "You and I were talking a lot on the trail. He wasn't. We were really concentrating on that colt. He wasn't. He could tell somehow when something we wouldn't even notice didn't look or sound normal."

"He _heard_ a _cat!"_ Nick tried one more time, as if they really weren't understanding what he was saying.

"And we heard you, Nick," Heath said.

"Well, he didn't come out of that fever with better hearing, did he?"

"No, not likely," Heath agreed.

"Then what _is_ going on in that head of his?" Nick asked.

"I don't know," Heath said. "Like I said, maybe he's just not as distracted as we are, but whatever it is, it sure was handy today."

Victoria heaved a sigh. "I think Heath's probably right. Jarrod's not the one who's distracted. We are."

"Well, that's still spooky to me," Nick insisted.

"Nick, don't be spooked by your own brother," Victoria said. "That's not going to help him heal up from whatever he's going through."

"I don't see how he's really going through much of anything," Audra said. Everyone looked at her. "I mean, he's not really suffering, is he? He's changed but he's not sick now. He's perfectly healthy and if he's quieter than he used to be, and he's noticing things we're not noticing, what's to worry about that? It's just – " She fumbled for a word and came up with, "different!"

"The doctor didn't seem to be worried about it," Victoria said. "Maybe he is perfectly all right and we're the ones who are a little bit off. Maybe we've always been a little bit off."

"Oh, come on!" Nick blurted out. "That's some kind of – philosophical crazy talk!"

"Philosophical?" Audra said with a little smile.

"Jarrod's talking in short sentences and Nick's using big words," Heath said, with a bit of his lop-sided grin sneaking in there. "Things are a little upside down around here."

Victoria was smiling, despite the fact that she was feeling somewhere in between where Audra was in this and where Nick was. But again, she fell back on what the doctor had said. "Whatever's going on with Jarrod, I think you can be grateful it was going on today," she said, "and beyond that, we just give this time and patience. Jarrod will get better, or he will adjust. And so will we."

Nick was still flummoxed, but he was the only one who was as far as he could see. He just grunted an agreement.

But despite what she said, Victoria was still concerned. Whatever was going on with Jarrod, even if he wasn't suffering, he was not Jarrod. She remembered he said he didn't feel like he belonged here. That was still what scared Victoria the most. To be home with the family who loved him but feel like he didn't belong here – that hurt. Maybe it didn't hurt him, but it was hurting the rest of them. And it sure was hurting Victoria.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After breakfast the next morning, after Nick and Heath had gone out to work, Jarrod spent about half an hour roaming around the parlor, picking objects up, looking at them as if he'd never seen them before. In truth, he found it hard to believe he had ever seen them before. They looked different now. He could see bits of color in a ceramic statuette that he'd never noticed before. He could see details around a picture frame. He could even see entire things – like the statuette of a horse or a small bronze of a Chinese woman – that he hadn't noticed before. He actually enjoyed what he was doing. It was like discovering treasure that had been buried right under his nose.

Victoria caught him at it and watched for several long minutes. _What are you seeing in those things_? _You've seen them over and over, for years and years, and yet now it's like you're seeing something different. Are you?_ She didn't interrupt him, but abruptly he said, "I've never really looked at these before."

Victoria almost jumped.

Jarrod turned, holding a photo of the family in his hand, smiling softly. "I heard you come in."

"Like you heard the cougar yesterday?" Victoria asked, coming closer.

He didn't answer, but just looked at the photo. "When did we have this taken?"

Victoria looked at it. "Right after Heath arrived. He's turning 28 – I guess that makes it four years."

Jarrod pointed at Nick. "All this time, I thought he had worn a suit for this picture, but he's just in that leather vest of his."

"As I recall, we tried to talk him into wearing a suit like you and Heath did, but he was determined not to wear a jacket," Victoria said. "At least he wore a tie." Victoria looked at her son, at his blue eyes that now looked like they were seeing into forever. "What made you start to look at these things?"

"I don't know," Jarrod said. "Something."

"Like you and the cougar yesterday," Victoria tried again.

Jarrod put the photo down. "I don't know why I heard it. Something made me feel like I was off the road and could see it, hear it."

"You thought you belonged somewhere else," Victoria said.

"Ever since I had that spell when I was sick – that moment or two when I died – "

Victoria cringed when he put it that way.

" – I've been different. I shouldn't be here."

"Where should you be?"

"I don't know. Maybe up in the air and looking down and seeing and hearing everything. "

Victoria took his arm, rubbing it. "Darling, you were very sick. It's going to take you longer to recover than you think."

"Hmm," Jarrod said, but he didn't look at her at first. Then, unexpectedly, he leaned down to her and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "I'm going to take a walk outside. I won't go far. It's a nice day."

Victoria nodded, and she silently cried. He was sweet, tranquil and thoughtful, but so off alone somewhere. So absent from himself. He knew it, too. No wonder he felt like he didn't belong here. "Just don't get out of sight of the house, all right?" she said, feeling like she was talking to him when he was five years old. Maybe that's what all this was like – like watching a very intelligent five-year-old discover the world again.

Jarrod nodded, squeezed her arm, and headed out the front door.

Victoria stood there for a moment, wiping her face with both hands. When she heard the door close behind him, she took a deep breath and decided to go to the kitchen. Silas was baking some fresh bread. She thought she would help.

XXXXXXXX

To the men who were working in the yard, the men who noticed Jarrod walking up the lane toward the gate, he just looked strange. Jarrod took walks with some frequency, but when he did, he usually looked like he was thinking about something in particular. He'd aim for someplace like the corral, stand there for a while intently, then at some point head back to the house with a resolute step as if he had solved a problem in his head. These days, though, it was more like there was nothing in his head. He wandered more. He stopped and stared at something more. He listened, he looked around him, and when he was ready, he wandered back to the house. That resolute step was gone. That intense thinking that solved problems was gone. It was more like he was just out there feeling, not thinking.

The men learned quickly to just leave him alone. The rumor that he had died for a minute when he was really sick spread around like wildfire, and it made the men who were less educated nervous. A lot of men looked at him like he was a ghost now. Some of the more intelligent men just smirked at that attitude, but they knew something was different about the lawyer, too. So, when he came out and wandered, they just kept an eye on him from a distance, in case he got himself into trouble. So far, he hadn't.

Only one or two men noticed when he stopped and picked something up out of the yard, near the gate. He looked it over carefully. It was small and fit into his shirt pocket, where he put it. He wandered some more, looking up, looking down, stopping to listen. Then, as was his usual habit these days, he wandered back toward the house and went inside.

As he stepped down into the foyer, he took the item he'd found by the gate out of his pocket and stopped, looking it over. He knew what it was. Victoria came in from the kitchen, having heard the door close, and saw him examining the little thing. "What's that?" she asked.

"Nick's lucky penny," Jarrod said, still looking at it.

"Where did you find it?"

"By the gate."

"I guess he must have dropped it. I hope he doesn't notice it today."

Jarrod looked up toward the ceiling. Victoria didn't have the slightest idea why he'd look up that way, so she looked, too. There was nothing there but the usual ceiling.

"Is there something else?" Victoria asked.

"Hmm," Jarrod said.

She touched his hand. "Jarrod – "

He finally looked at her. "Maybe I should take this on out to him."

"I'd rather you didn't go out there on your own," Victoria said.

"I'm all right," Jarrod said. "I didn't have any trouble riding yesterday. If Nick does miss this, it might make him nervous."

"Oh, I doubt that."

Jarrod looked up at the ceiling again, fingering the coin, then putting it back into his pocket. "I will take it out. I'd like to work for a couple hours."

Victoria didn't like the idea.

Jarrod smiled and kissed her on the forehead. "I won't carry a gun. I'll be fine."

She gave in. "Watch out for yourself," she said.

Jarrod had gone out walking without wearing a hat. He fetched it now from the hat rack in the hall, kissed his mother again on the way out the door, and was soon in the stable. He backed his horse carefully out of its stall, ran his hands over the soft, warm hide of the animal that had carried him so far through this life. After a fond pat on the neck, he saddled the horse, feeling the rough yet smooth cloth of the saddle blanket, the warmth of the leather saddle, the cool metal in the bridle. Before long he was mounted and on his way.

He didn't hurry, but he didn't dally, either. Again today the air was fresh and warm. He noticed the scent of something on the breeze and saw several different kinds of wildflowers in bloom. It was early summer. The land was awake and enjoying itself. He enjoyed it, too.

Before long he had caught up with the herd near the north ridge – just in time to see that he was too late. Nick was flat on his back near the chuck wagon, Heath kneeling beside him, a couple men gathered round. Another man was clearing equipment out of a buckboard. Jarrod rode up and dismounted.

Nick was moaning uncomfortably. Jarrod knelt down with Heath. Heath looked up at him and said, "His horse threw him. I don't think he broke anything, but his back is out again."

Jarrod didn't say anything, but he took Nick's lucky penny out of his shirt pocket and held it up in front of Nick's eyes. Nick stopped moaning, focused, and said, "Damn it all," as he took the good luck token from his older brother.

"Derwood," Heath said to one of the men beside him, "ride into town and get the doctor out to the house, will you?"

The foreman, McCall, was nearby. "Why don't you take Nick home, Heath? I'll keep an eye on things out here."

"I'll stay," Jarrod said.

Everyone looked at him, especially Nick and Heath. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Jarrod," Heath said. He didn't like the idea that Jarrod would be here without him and Nick.

Jarrod just nodded.

Nick grew too suspicious to hurt anymore. "Why? What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing," Jarrod said. He looked around and nodded. "You're short handed. I need some fresh air."

Heath looked up at McCall. "Mac?"

"I'll look out for him," McCall said.

"I'd rather you didn't, Jarrod," Nick said. "You look like you're wandering around in the fog."

Jarrod stood up, saying only, "It'll be fine." Then he mounted up and went out to work.

Nick looked at Heath. "Maybe you'd better stay."

McCall said, "Maybe you'd better leave him alone."

Nick and Heath both looked at him, worried.

McCall said, "He's not gonna get over whatever it is that's ailing him if you two keep treating him like he's slow or something. You told me yesterday he had a better idea of what was going on that you did."

Nick and Heath had to admit that. Nick groaned again. "All right," he said. "Just remember, he isn't exactly himself these days."

McCall said, "He'll be fine."

"I'll get Nick home and be back out if I can," Heath said.

"Don't worry about it," McCall said and headed for his horse.

They worried anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"He'll be fine," Dr. Merar said as he came down the stairs after seeing Nick. "Just a mild back sprain, no broken bones. Keep him in bed with heat on it for another 48 hours. I'll be back in a couple days to have a look and see if we can get him up and around a little. In the meantime he can be doing some of those gentle stretches I gave him the last time he wrenched his back, but he should do them in bed while he's got heat on his back."

Victoria, Heath and Audra breathed easier at the bottom of the stairs, until the doctor then asked –

"Where is Jarrod?"

"He went out with the herd," Heath said, expecting Dr. Merar to be unhappy with that.

But the good doctor just echoed what Jarrod was saying the most of these days. "Hmm."

"You don't mind?" Victoria asked.

"No, the fresh air and work will probably do him good," Dr. Merar said. "Nick told me about a little adventure you boys had out at the Bigelow ranch yesterday."

"Yeah, that was a bit startling," Heath said.

"I'd be pretty pleased about it if I were you," Dr. Merar said. "He's not as distracted as we thought he was. Quite the opposite."

"He still seems a bit off in his own world sometimes," Victoria said.

Dr. Merar nodded. "It probably won't vanish overnight, but it will probably ease off, or like I said, he'll figure out how to cope with it. But for now I wouldn't let it worry me. Especially not if he's paying attention to things the rest of you aren't. Heath – since Jarrod isn't here, I think it's a good idea if you stick around and help moving Nick around if he needs it."

"All right," Heath said.

Audra said, "I'll get a hot water bottle ready," and she went off to the kitchen.

Dr. Merar headed for the door. "Nick ought to be back up to snuff in a week or so. I left some mild painkillers up there for him. He says the pain isn't worth medicating yet."

Victoria walked him to the door, saying, "Thank you, doctor."

He gave her a smile as he left. "Don't worry – about either one of them."

Victoria returned the smile, and closed the door after the doctor went out.

"Did Nick know he'd lost his lucky penny when he was hurt?" Victoria asked Heath.

"No, but you know how Nick can get," Heath said. "He probably believes more in that thing now than he did before."

"I'm glad Jarrod found it," Victoria said.

Heath noticed that Victoria still looked a bit unhappy when she thought about what was happening with her oldest. "Mother," Heath said, "I think Jarrod's all right. He might not feel like he's all here, or like he belongs here, but he sure is paying more attention to things than we are."

"Yes, he is," Victoria said. "But I wish – " She stuttered a bit. "I wish he'd believe that he did belong here. I wish he'd come back to us, and he just isn't coming back."

Heath kissed her on the forehead. "He will. As soon as he sorts it all out, he will."

XXXXXXX

Out on the range, Jarrod rode herd as if he'd been doing it all along, nudging strays back with the rest of the cattle. He noticed one in particular that was always moving off alone, looking like it was heading to make a break for freedom. Jarrod nudged it back constantly, and at about the third or fourth time, he started likening this stray to himself. The steer seemed to think he belonged somewhere else, not here with the rest of the cattle. Jarrod wondered if he ought to just let him go.

McCall came over to him around the fifth time Jarrod had herded that stray back. "Determined piece of beef, isn't he?" McCall asked.

"Hmm," Jarrod said, and then didn't say anything, until he said, almost only to himself, "I guess all God's critters do that when they don't think they're where they belong."

McCall hadn't heard how Jarrod was seeing himself these days. Nobody talked much about it. He didn't know Jarrod was seeing a bit of himself in a mangy head of beef cattle, but when Jarrod looked up toward the east, toward the mountains in the distance, he started wondering a bit. "Getting that wanderlust, Jarrod?"

"No," Jarrod said, and then said nothing.

"How long are you fixing to stay out here with us?" McCall asked.

Jarrod took a look at the sun, to figure the time. "I guess I better think about getting back to the house. Mother worries."

"Mothers do that," McCall agreed, but as soon as he got the words out, something happened.

Something farther toward the front of the herd had sent it into full stampede, and the rest of the herd was starting to follow. Without a word, McCall headed fast toward the place where the trouble started. Jarrod pulled aside for a moment, watching without getting caught in the herd. He wasn't looking for anything in particular – he was only seeing the cattle and the men running fast, farther ahead, away from him. For some reason he still held back – and then he realized why.

Riders were coming from the rear, racing up toward the other side of the herd and beginning to cut cattle out and turning them off, away from the rest of the herd. Rustlers! Jarrod couldn't believe it, but these riders were stealing cattle! With most of the Barkley men up ahead, trying to control the herd, these strangers were stealing what they could pick off from the rear. And they had a good 20 head picked off already.

The closest Barkley men were pulling away. Without thinking, without planning, Jarrod cut across between the rear of the herd and the 20 head the rustlers had picked off and turned back. As fast as he could, he put himself between the rustlers and the steers they were trying to take away. Unarmed, there wasn't a thing he could do if the rustlers started firing at him, but he didn't even think about that. He just headed off the cattle the men were stealing and turned them back toward the main herd as best he could.

There were at least six riders, and while most of them turned and took off as soon as they realized they'd been spotted, two of them turned on Jarrod and fired at him. McCall heard the fire, whipped around, and saw the strangers Jarrod was after.

Without thinking anything at all, Jarrod charged the riders, not even paying attention to bullets coming at him. In an instant, McCall was right behind him, charging with him. And the strangers took off, riding hard back the way they came.

Jarrod turned his attention to the baffled cattle, moving in all kinds of directions. He got about half of them turned and headed toward the main herd before he saw another Barkley man join him and McCall to round up the other half. Jarrod moved his bunch back toward the main herd, now settling down nearly half a mile ahead of where they were to begin with.

McCall and the other man were not far behind with the rest of the nearly stolen cattle. McCall rode up to Jarrod, saying, "I don't believe it! Rustlers!"

"Yeah," Jarrod said.

"Thank heaven you saw them," McCall said. "They could have made off with a lot more than this little bunch."

"Mac," Jarrod said and pointed. "You're hit."

It took McCall a moment to understand and look. There was blood running down his right leg from a wound in his thigh. A lot of blood.

Jarrod dismounted, reached up and pulled McCall out of the saddle. He and the other man got McCall onto the ground and quickly made a tourniquet out of their bandanas. "You stay still," Jarrod said. "This isn't just a little graze."

"Damnation," McCall muttered, and then he got weak and dizzy.

Jarrod remembered – Heath had taken Nick back to the house in the buckboard. "Go to the house and get the buckboard back here," he said to the other man. "Fast."

The man took off. Other men began to quiet the herd down and come back their way.

"You knew they were coming," McCall whispered, getting weaker.

Jarrod nodded.

"How did you know?"

"I don't know," Jarrod said. "Heard them maybe." He looked at the first man arriving and dismounting. "Go to town and get the doctor to the house!"

"He's probably already there with Nick," the man said.

Jarrod shook his head. "Go get him."

The man shrugged, remounted and took off.

Jarrod looked at McCall and took hold of his hand. "You're gonna be all right."

McCall nodded, but then passed out.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Dr. Merar had scarcely made it back to town before somebody else from the Barkley ranch was back to get him. This time, for the foreman McCall with a bullet wound to the leg, bleeding badly. With a low groan, the doctor got back into his buggy and hurried to the Barkley house again.

This time he found McCall in the bunkhouse, on his bunk on top of an old quilt that was draped there, another old quilt covering him up while his right leg was exposed. Victoria was with him and had a makeshift bandage around the leg wound. It was heavy with blood, and McCall was only slightly awake. Victoria, Audra and Heath were all with him.

"What happened?" Dr. Merar asked.

"He was shot by somebody trying to steal some of our cattle," Heath said. "He's lost a lot of blood. We can't keep him awake."

"Audra," Victoria said, "run up to the house and tell Nick the doctor is here so he doesn't worry."

"He'll worry anyway," Audra said as she headed for the house. "I'll try to keep him in bed."

"Audra, I'll need hot water and towels," Dr. Merar said

"I'll bring them," Audra said over her shoulder.

Dr. Merar removed the bandage carefully. A little bit of blood still oozed from the wound, but it wasn't too bad. He took a look at McCall's eyes and the pallor in his face. "Heath, can you give him a transfusion?"

Heath started to roll up his sleeve. "You sure it'll work? I'm not sure he's ever needed blood before."

"Nick gave it to him once," Victoria said. "It was fine."

Heath sat down on the next bunk over.

"Victoria, get me another blanket," Dr. Merar said. "The bullet in here has to come out as soon as I get some blood back into him."

They worked proficiently, having done something like this before and more than once. Everyone was virtually silent as the transfusion was done. McCall blinked awake toward the end, but soon the doctor knew he was going to have to put him out when he removed that bullet.

Audra brought hot water, towels and more blankets. A little weak from having given blood, Heath laid himself down on the bunk he'd been sitting on. Then it was just a question of watching while the doctor put McCall under, removed the bullet, then stitched things up. Victoria helped when it came time to bandage the wound up, Audra took the bloodied towels and water away, and then it was done.

The doctor gave a big sigh and finally said, incredulously, "Rustlers?"

"Rustlers," Heath said. "From the sounds of it, Jarrod saw them or heard them. McCall and a couple of our men caught up to him, there was some kind of shooting and Jarrod realized McCall was hit. He didn't even seem to know it."

"Something in the brain will do that to you," the doctor said. "It takes care of you in an emergency, helps you cope with what you need to cope with. I don't want him to move around for a few hours. He should be off his feet for three or four days, even more if this starts bleeding again."

McCall's eyes opened before anyone really noticed. He sighed very softly. Victoria saw it first. "Don't move around, Mac. You don't want to pull that leg wound open."

McCall moaned a little. "It didn't hurt until now," he said weakly. He looked around, taking in where he was. "What happened?"

"Jarrod spotted some rustlers," Heath said. "You and he got shot at."

"Is he all right?"

"Seems so."

"Rustlers?" McCall said.

"Yeah, trying to pick off some of our cattle," Heath said. "You and Jarrod chased them off."

"I wonder how he spotted those rustlers before anyone else did," McCall thought out loud.

"It seems everybody was busy trying to stop the stampede, but Jarrod had been toward the rear of the herd and held back," Heath said. "That's when he saw them."

"How did he know to hold back?" Victoria said.

"Maybe he heard something," Heath said. "Sometimes you hear things before you see them or even know you hear them." But he looked up at his mother. Was this Jarrod seeing or hearing more than anybody else again?

"What's the problem, Victoria?" Dr. Merar asked.

Victoria shook her head. "Yesterday, he heard a cougar no one else heard and saved Nick and another man and a yearling colt. This morning he found a lucky coin Nick had lost and no one noticed. Now, these rustlers – Doctor, he's still saying he doesn't feel like he belongs here. Are these things connected?"

Dr. Merar sighed. "Who knows? Perhaps he's being more attentive because he doesn't feel comfortable where he is."

"Or maybe he's just not as distracted with the regular stuff as the rest of us are," Heath offered.

"Or a bit of both," Dr. Merar said. "In any event, I don't think it's anything to worry about. Like I said, he'll heal, or he'll adjust. And in the meantime, you can thank your lucky stars he's noticing things the rest of you aren't. He saved a lot of cattle, got McCall here taken care of and perhaps even kept anyone else from getting hurt."

Victoria shook her head. "It's so strange, isn't it? He's not himself, and in some ways he's better – but I still want my son back the way he was."

Dr. Merar chuckled and put his hand on Victoria's shoulder. "He'll probably get there, Victoria. Give him time."

Victoria said, "I'd give up a whole herd of cattle to get him back."

"Time, Mother," Heath said. "Time."

XXXXXXX

Figuring Nick would be getting irritated at being left out of everything that was going on, Heath went up to see him as soon as he felt strong enough. Nick was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He told whoever it was who knocked to come in, so Heath entered.

"McCall is gonna be okay," Heath said on his way over to the bed. He pulled up a chair and sat down.

"What happened?" Nick asked. "Audra didn't know everything."

"I only know what the men who brought McCall in told me," Heath said. "Everything was fine, things were nice and peaceful when all of a sudden something spooked the herd. They spotted a man near the head of the herd, not one of ours. He spooked the cattle and then rode off. Our men were too busy trying to get the herd back under control so he got away. Jarrod was hanging back toward the rear, and the next thing everybody knew, he was after a bunch of strangers who were trying to cut off some of the cattle back there. McCall and another man went back to help him. Shooting started. They got the cattle back and the rustlers took off, but McCall was hit pretty bad in the leg."

Nick let it settle in a bit before he said, "Jarrod again. He might not feel like he's in the right place, but somehow that's where he manages to be."

"It is kinda interesting," Heath agreed.

"Is he back yet?"

"No, he stayed out with the men."

"Took over for McCall?"

"No. Running things ain't his strong suit right now. They left MacLister in charge."

Nick heaved a big sigh. "I gotta get out of this bed."

"Not yet, you don't," Heath said. "We don't need you cramping up out there on the range. Treat yourself right, and you'll only be down for a few days. I'll head out after dinner and see how things are out there, but MacLister is all right."

Nick leveled a gaze at his brother. Heath had a side to him that let him see into people better than Nick could. "What do you think is going on with Jarrod anyway?"

"I don't know," Heath said. "He was pretty sick, and he did leave us there for a minute."

"You don't think he really died, do you?"

"I don't know. I've always heard dying is something you do and you're done. You don't come back from it."

"Something sure got to him. Something spooky."

"Yeah, you said that before. Tell you what, Nick. If it's spooking you that much, maybe you better have another talk with him, see if you can get at what's really bothering him. If he did die and come back – and I'm not saying that's even possible, but if it's something he _thinks_ happened, it might explain why he seems out of sorts. But what the heck is giving him these insights, hearing things we can't hear, seeing rustlers before everybody else does – I don't have any idea. I can only think that for some reason, he's not distracted by the regular stuff in this world."

Nick sighed. "Well, I don't have much else to do lying here, other than trying to figure our big brother out. He's a big question mark sometimes even when he's normal. Now – he's an enigma."

Heath raised his eyebrows. "Enigma? You're the one getting spooky, Nick. You and these big words you're suddenly throwing around."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Jarrod was home before very much longer, dirty and smelling of cattle. As soon as he came in, he put his hat and gloves on the table in the foyer and came to the family in the living room. "How's McCall?" he asked.

"He'll be all right," Victoria said. "How about you? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Jarrod said. He looked very tired. He stood for a moment, looking like he was trying to figure out where to go next. "How's Nick?" he finally asked.

"Tired of being in bed," Heath said. "You know he hates being laid up."

Jarrod took a deep breath, looked around, and said, "I'll go clean up and look in on him."

"Jarrod – " Victoria said, and Jarrod stopped and looked around. "You saw the rustlers first. How did you know they were there?"

""Maybe I heard them," Jarrod said simply. "I was in the rear. Maybe I saw them. I don't know."

Jarrod took the stairs wearily, cleaned up and changed clothes before he looked in on Nick. Nick was awake, lying pretty flat but reading a book that was perched on his stomach. He looked over, saw Jarrod come in quietly, and put the book down. "Well, well," he said. "You've been a busy man today. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Jarrod said. "How are you?"

"I wish you could have found my lucky penny a lot sooner," Nick said.

"It was lying right there by the gate," Jarrod said, as if Nick should have seen it himself.

"A lucky penny probably wouldn't have kept Coco from stumbling anyway. How's McCall?"

"I haven't seen him," Jarrod said. "Mother says he's all right."

"Sit down a minute."

Jarrod pulled up a chair and sat down beside his brother's bed.

To Nick, he still looked a little bit off, a little bit distracted, but things were starting to look like he wasn't distracted at all. Nick asked, "How are you feeling?"

"All right," Jarrod said.

"Still out of sorts."

Jarrod nodded. "Hmm." He hesitated, looking just too tired.

"Still like you're somewhere else."

Jarrod nodded.

"Tell me something. What was it like to die?"

Jarrod was startled by the question. Not alarmed, but it took a moment for it to penetrate the fog. "I'm surprised nobody's asked me that yet. Maybe nobody wants to know."

"What was it like?" Nick asked again.

Jarrod looked out of the window next to Nick's bed for a moment. "Like flying might be. Light as the air. Comfortable. Nothing hurt. I didn't even care that I wasn't breathing. No worries. No pain."

"Did you want to stay dead?"

It was another startling question, one that Jarrod hadn't even asked himself yet, not directly. But now – "For a moment, yes. I wanted to stay dead."

Nick swallowed. "Maybe that's why you're having so much trouble coming back."

"Maybe," Jarrod said. "Dr. Merar said it sounded like my brain was damaged. I think that's more likely."

"That's not good to hear," Nick said.

"No, but it could heal." He grew quiet again, still looking out the window. "I'm sorry," he abruptly said.

"For what?" Nick asked.

"Being so distracted."

Nick said, "Jarrod, the past couple days have made me think you're the least distracted man I know."

Jarrod smiled. "Maybe I am. Not so many worries around me now, weighing me down."

Nick grew more curious. "What do you mean?"

"Just calm, Nick," Jarrod said. "I'm not supposed to be here with all the worries anymore. Just calm."

Nick sighed. This conversation was getting too complicated for him, and Jarrod was sounding like he had gotten into some peyote. Nick was half sorry he started this talk, but he did understand a bit more than he had.

Jarrod patted Nick lightly on the leg and got up. "Don't worry about me, Nick. Just get well," Jarrod said, and headed out the door.

Nick watched the door close, and he said, to himself, "You, too." But then he also wondered if it was fair to want Jarrod to "get well." Would he give his brother those regrets and worries and secrets to carry around again, or was Jarrod really better off without them? Maybe it was good for him to feel out of place for a while, free of all his old concerns.

And then Nick felt a startling stab of something he seldom felt at all – envy.

XXXXXXXX

Audra gave Jarrod a kiss on his freshly shaved cheek when he came down from visiting Nick. "Now you look more like Jarrod Barkley, Esquire," she said.

Jarrod smiled.

"How's Nick feeling?" Heath asked.

"He hurts," Jarrod said slowly, "but he'll be all right."

Jarrod headed for the scotch and poured one. As Audra sat down beside her on the settee, Victoria asked, "Will you go out with the herd again tomorrow?"

"Only if Heath needs me," Jarrod said.

"We're all right – we won't need you," Heath said.

Jarrod nodded and sipped his scotch. "Hmm," he said, and after a few moments of silence he said, "I'll work on a will here."

They all looked startled. Jarrod hadn't done any legal work at all for weeks, and lately he just hadn't shown any interest. He really didn't show interest now, but here he was, going to do it.

"Maybe that will help you feel better," Audra said.

"Hmm," Jarrod said.

He sat down in his thinking chair and stared into the empty fireplace, sipping and staring. Remembering the doctor said to treat him as they always had, Audra began some idle chatter about her day. Victoria and Heath listened, but Jarrod didn't seem to.

He had gone off in his mind again, but it didn't last. In just a bit he wasn't thinking about anything at all, not intentionally, anyway. He was just staring. He felt a comfort settle in, knowing that nothing really seemed to matter all that much. If he always felt like he belonged somewhere outside this place, it would be all right. If he found the world of law and business were pulling him back to who he had been before, that would be all right. Even if he had to carry around the regrets and the worries and the secrets again, that would be all right, too.

But for now, nothing much seemed to matter. He let Audra's idle chatter settle in. For now, he just let everything be.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Jarrod spent the next day finishing the will he had mentioned and writing another one from scratch. He wondered, when he started, what getting back into legal matters would do to this feeling like he wasn't where he belonged. He even wondered, as he pulled out his own will and thought about reviewing it, what that would do, but it really didn't really do anything. It was like looking at someone else's will, not his own. No matter. He got the work done, he did it properly. For now, that was all that mattered.

At dinner, he abruptly said, "I want to go into the office tomorrow."

Victoria, Heath and Audra looked at each other, surprised. "Do you feel like getting back to work?" Victoria asked.

"I need to see what's there," Jarrod said, and left it at that.

Audra said, "I'm going in to spend the morning at the orphanage. We can ride in together."

Jarrod nodded and said, "Hmm."

"Wonderful," Audra said. "It'll be nice to have the company. Perhaps we can even have lunch together."

Jarrod nodded and said, "Hmm," again. But he stared into his coffee as he did it, and it was a long set of heartbeats before he said, "I haven't been to Cattlemen's in a while."

Audra perked up. "Then Cattlemen's it is!"

But he was quiet over lunch, saying little after ordering for both of them. Audra tried to draw him out. "Was there much work waiting for you at your office?"

"Wills I still need to write, and a couple of easements," Jarrod said.

"Has your secretary been in?"

"She looked after the mail for me."

"The children at the orphanage have a new part-time teacher. Rose Bray is coming in twice a week."

"Hmm."

Audra lost interest in trying to think up new things to say after a while. She just eyed her brother, noticing that he really didn't seem sullen, just uninterested. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry I'm not better company."

Jarrod looked up. "You're beautiful company," he said. "I'm just still a bit off kilter."

"We haven't really talked about it, you and I," Audra said.

Jarrod said, "I still haven't gotten myself back from being sick, that's all."

"We thought we'd lost you. Sometimes it still feels like we have."

Jarrod gave a sigh and reached for her hand. For the first time, he felt a bit frustrated with this person he had become. He didn't like making Audra upset. "I'm still here. I just need time to come around, that's all."

"How can I help?"

He smiled. "I know it doesn't seem like I'm listening when you tell everyone how your day went, but I am. Maybe I seem distracted, but I don't think I am. I know what's going on."

Audra smiled. It was the most he'd said to her in weeks. "Maybe better than anyone does, so Heath says. He says you're noticing things the rest of us are missing."

Jarrod nodded. "I just feel out of place a little."

"Like you should be somewhere else," Audra said. "Like you don't belong with us anymore."

"It's not that I don't belong with you," Jarrod said. "It's just that I don't belong wherever it is that I am. It'll pass, or I'll cope, so the doctor says."

Audra was a little surprised. "You really aren't worried, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Jarrod said. "I'm just a little foggy, that's all."

"That must be pleasant – to have no worries."

Jarrod smiled. "It is."

"Now I think I'm jealous."

Jarrod laughed. It was the first time Audra had seen him laugh since he'd been sick. Maybe he was coming around, healing or coping.

When they left the Cattlemen's, they decided to head home. Audra was finished at the orphanage, and Jarrod had his briefcase loaded with work he could do at home. Jarrod helped his sister up into the buggy they had come to town in, and then he climbed in to drive. And then he stopped, staring.

"What is it?" Audra asked.

"That man over by the barber shop," Jarrod said. "The left-handed one with the light colored hat. How do we know him?"

Audra looked. There was a young man coming out of the barber shop, fitting Jarrod's description. "I never saw him before. Have you?"

"Yes," Jarrod said. He kept looking, until the young man noticed he was being stared at. He turned and walked away, keeping them from seeing his face anymore.

"Maybe you'll think of where you know him from later," Audra suggested.

"Hmm," Jarrod said, scowling after the man. He felt uneasy, suspicious, but he gave the horse the reins and they headed on home. Something was trying to get into his mind, but he was still foggy. It wouldn't penetrate the fog.

They didn't talk much on the way. Audra could tell Jarrod was distracted again – or maybe not distracted. Maybe he was trying to think of where he had seen the man before, or maybe just off in his own world again. In any event, Audra didn't want to disturb him, so she kept her words to herself. When they got home, Jarrod handed the buggy off to a stable hand and helped Audra down. He grabbed his briefcase out of the buggy and followed Audra into the house.

"Well, did you have a productive morning?" Victoria asked, coming toward them from the parlor.

"Oh, yes," Audra said. "The children are all fine."

Jarrod didn't speak. He was still thinking, trying to remember. It was frustrating that he didn't remember. He hadn't felt frustrated since before he was sick. He didn't like the feeling.

Audra said, "I think I'll go freshen up," and she headed upstairs.

Victoria touched Jarrod's arm, drawing his attention. "And how was your morning, darling? Did you do what you needed to do?"

He nodded. "I picked up the work I need to do yet. I'll do it here."

Victoria didn't like his frown. "Is anything wrong?"

"I saw someone in town," Jarrod said. "A young man. I knew him from somewhere. I just can't think of where."

"It'll probably come to you when you're not thinking about it," Victoria said.

"Hmm," Jarrod said, and realized she was right. He was trying too hard to remember. He put his briefcase down by the stairway, then headed for the refreshment table. He poured himself some scotch, then took it to the fireplace and stared into the glass, leaning against the mantle. It was tough not to think about it, but he closed his eyes for a moment and just tried to let things be.

Maybe he was thinking about something specific this time, not just wandering off to wherever it was he thought he belonged now, but Victoria still didn't like it. Before he was ill, if he went off into his thoughts like this, he would come out of them if she spoke to him, but lately all she would get was that "Hmm." She tried anyway. "What was it about him that looked familiar?" she asked.

He didn't answer.

"Jarrod? What was it?"

"Hmm," he said, and then after a few more heartbeats, a few more scowls, he said, "the left-handedness. The color of his hat. I've seen him before, not – "

He suddenly stopped. Victoria said, "Jarrod? Have you remembered?"

Jarrod turned. "He was with the rustlers the other day. He's the one who shot McCall."

"Are you sure?" Victoria asked.

Jarrod put his glass down on the coffee table, saying, "I'm sure," and he headed for the hall. When he came out, he had his gun and he headed for the front door.

"Where are you going?" Victoria said, going after him.

"I need to get back to town."

"Jarrod, why don't you wait for Heath?"

"It'll take too long," Jarrod said.

"Jarrod!" Victoria called, but he was already out the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Nick wasn't really supposed to be on his feet yet, but he heard his mother calling his brother's name and sounding anxious. He crawled out of bed – too slowly, but he couldn't straighten up any faster. He looked out the window and saw Jarrod heading for the stable, his holster over his shoulder. "Jarrod!" he yelled.

Jarrod went into the stable.

Audra came knocking at the door in a few seconds. "Nick?"

"Come on in," Nick said, easing himself back to sit on the edge of his bed. He didn't care if he was shirtless and in long johns.

And neither did Audra when she came in. "I heard you call Jarrod. What's wrong?"

"He's heading out, with his gun," Nick said. "Help me get up."

"No!" Audra said. "You can't even stand up straight!"

"There's nobody else to go after him!" Nick snarled.

"I can," Audra said and hurried out.

She ran down the stairs, just in time to see her mother running out the front door. Audra ran after her, but they were both only in time to see Jarrod mounted and riding out, on a horse that was not his own. The stable hand shrugged at them. "It was for me so I could get a couple mounts from the pasture, but he just took it and took off."

"Help us saddle a couple for ourselves," Victoria said. "I think we best go after him."

"I can go!"

"No, you go upstairs and make sure Nick stays in bed. We'll go.""

The stable hand didn't really understand the two Barkley women going after one of the sons, even though he knew Jarrod had been a little off lately. Jarrod Barkley didn't need their keeping, as a rule, but they looked worried and he knew better than to argue with Mrs. Barkley, so he followed them into the stable and helped them saddle their own mounts. In a few minutes, Victoria and Audra were off after Jarrod.

XXXXXX

Jarrod made it back to town and immediately began riding slowly up and down the streets, looking for the left-handed young man in the tan hat, but he did not see him. He did see Sheriff Madden, coming out of the courthouse, and he called to him.

The sheriff stopped, and Jarrod rode up to him. "Well, now, it's good to see you up and around!" the sheriff said cheerfully.

Jarrod did not dismount. "Fred, I'm looking for a man I saw earlier – young, left-handed, wearing a tan hat."

Sheriff Madden shook his head. "I haven't seen anybody like that. Why do you want him?"

"He shot Duke McCall the other day," Jarrod said.

"You're sure?"

"I saw him."

"Come over to the office with me."

Jarrod rode over to the sheriff's office and was dismounting when the sheriff arrived. At the same time, Victoria and Audra arrived and pulled up beside Jarrod.

"What are you doing here?" Jarrod asked.

Victoria said, "I'm not very happy you rode off the way you did."

"And Nick was about to get up and come after you, so we did," Audra added.

"I'm fine," Jarrod said. "I needed to get here and see Fred."

The women both dismounted and hitched their horses up next to Jarrod's. "Come on in," the sheriff said, not quite understanding why Victoria and Audra were so anxious about Jarrod, but willing to hear everybody out.

They went into the sheriff's office. He had no prisoners and none of his deputies were there, so they were alone.

The sheriff asked, "What's this all about? Jarrod says he saw the man who shot McCall."

"I did see him," Jarrod said.

"You're sure it was him?" Victoria asked.

"I'm sure," Jarrod said, calmly, certainly.

"Why are you tearing into town after him?" the sheriff asked Victoria. "Is something wrong?"

Victoria didn't know how to explain it.

Before she could try, Jarrod said, "I've been ill, Fred."

"I know, I heard," the sheriff said. "We came close to losing you, I heard."

"I'm still here," Jarrod said, "just a bit off-kilter. I haven't been out on my own until now."

The sheriff eyed him, worried. "Off kilter?"

Jarrod just said, "We need to find the kid who shot McCall."

"Describe him more. What else was he wearing?"

Jarrod stared up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes. They thought he was thinking, but that wasn't really it. He was letting himself relax and remember. "Blue shirt. No vest. Brown boots. Tan pants, darker than his hat. Dark hair under that hat."

"Where was he going when you saw him here in town?"

"I don't know."

"He was coming out of the barber shop," Audra said when Jarrod didn't continue.

"Did anyone else see these rustlers when they tried to take the cattle?"

"McCall, maybe," Victoria said. "We'll ask him."

"Is there anything else?"

Jarrod kept his eyes closed, but in a few moments he shook his head. "He was riding a sorrel, white stockings, small white patch on its forehead." He took a big, shuddering breath, as if he were exhausted from remembering, then opened his eyes.

Sheriff Madden could tell Jarrod was not his old self. He could also tell his mother and sister were being very protective. Off-kilter, Jarrod had said. The sheriff decided to leave it at that for now. "I'll get a search going for him," the sheriff said. "Why don't you all head back home? I'll let you know what I find. Jarrod, do you remember anything about anybody who was with this kid when McCall was shot?"

Jarrod closed his eyes again, trying to let himself remember. He shook his head. "No."

"All right," the sheriff said. And then he and Victoria exchanged looks.

Victoria could tell Jarrod's demeanor was off enough to raise Sheriff Madden's curiosity. But even Jarrod could tell that. "Fred, I seem distracted, but I'm not. "

When he didn't say anything more, Victoria said, "The doctor thinks the high fever he had may have left some brain injury."

The sheriff slumped a bit. Suddenly, he doubted the accuracy of everything Jarrod had just described about the man who shot McCall. "Are you sure you really saw this kid shoot McCall? Are you sure you aren't just latching onto him because you didn't know him or something?"

"I'm sure," Jarrod said.

"I'm sorry. It's just a bit tough trusting the word of a witness who tells me he has brain damage."

"Fred," Victoria said, "the other day, before Mac was shot, Jarrod was with his brothers out at the Bigelow ranch. Ewing will verify this, but Jarrod heard a cougar when no one else did, and he prevented what could have been a nasty attack. He also heard or saw the rustlers who shot Mac before anyone else did. Whatever is going on with him, he's not distracted and he's not wrong in what he's seeing and hearing."

Sheriff Madden heaved a sigh. "I'll check into it, but Jarrod – you're a lawyer. You've got to know a witness with brain damage isn't a witness a district attorney is going to be happy about."

Jarrod nodded, but he didn't say anything.

"Go on home," the sheriff said. "I'll check into it. I'll let you know what I find out. And if McCall remembers anything or can verify what Jarrod's said, you let me know right away."

"We will, Fred," Victoria said.

Jarrod opened the door for his mother and sister and they went out ahead of him. The sheriff took a moment to wonder what in the world to do with the information Jarrod had given him, but then decided he had to at least look for the kid Jarrod described. Things would be clearer if he found such a man in town, and if he could question him.

Outside, Jarrod helped his mother and sister mount up. As he handed his mother her horse's lead, he said, "I'm sorry I made you come after me. I shouldn't have frightened you. I was just in a hurry."

Victoria nodded. "I'm sorry if we've embarrassed you."

Jarrod shook his head. "I'm not embarrassed. I'm all right."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

When they got back to the ranch and talked to McCall, to see if he could verify what Jarrod had told the sheriff, McCall just shook his head. "I didn't see who shot me," he said. "Everything was moving too fast. It was too confused. But you're sure about who you saw, Jarrod?"

Jarrod nodded. "I'm sure. Thank you, Mac," he said and went out.

Audra and Victoria stayed for a moment longer, watching McCall as he watched Jarrod leave. "Is he any better?" McCall asked quietly.

"He doesn't seem to be," Victoria said, "but you know he's been amazingly accurate on things he's seen and heard for the past few days."

"I know. It beats me," McCall said.

"Heath thinks he's just not distracted by all the regular noise going on around us, so he hears and sees more that's unusual," Audra said. "I think he's right."

"Beats me," McCall said again. "I just hope he's right about who shot me. I'd like to get my hands on that – " He stopped, not inclined to swear in front of the ladies.

Victoria gave him a smile and a pat on the arm. "We know what you'd like to do, Mac, but you'd better let the law handle it and just get back on your feet."

"How's Nick doing?" McCall asked.

"He should be bellowing like mad any minute now," Victoria said.

"Jarrod! Jarrod, get up here!"

Jarrod heard it the moment he stepped into the house. He took his hat and gunbelt off, left them in the hall, then climbed the stairs and entered Nick's room without knocking. Nick was half upright in bed, looking furious.

"Lie down, Nick, you're hurting your back," Jarrod said.

"Be hanged!" Nick said. "What the hell are you doing, running off like that?"

Jarrod pulled a chair up and sat down. Doing that made Nick ease off a little. "I went to town with Audra this morning and saw the man who shot McCall. I didn't realize it was him until we got home, so I got back as fast as I could to let the sheriff know."

Nick lay back in bed again. The length of what Jarrod had just said surprised him, not to mention the substance. "You're sure it was him? Did McCall agree with you?"

"McCall never saw who shot him," Jarrod said, "but I'm sure it was him."

"Where are mother and Audra?"

"Talking to McCall. Yes, they followed me into town and I'm sorry I frightened everyone, but I'm not used to being treated like I'm a little boy who can't be let out on his own."

Nick eyed his brother. There wasn't any anger in what Jarrod had just said, no irritation at all. He was just stating a plain fact. Normally, he would have been livid. Nick was relieved Jarrod was beginning to talk in longer sentences but worried that Jarrod wasn't livid now. "You just best pamper yourself a bit, Jarrod, until you get yourself back to normal. And pamper us. Or at least humor us."

Jarrod nodded. "Do you need anything?"

Nick looked toward his water glass on the night table. It was half full. "I've got water. I'll need dinner and I want to try to make it to the wc in about half an hour."

Jarrod nodded. "I'll be back."

He left and made his way downstairs, where his mother and sister were leaving their gloves and hats in the hallway. "We heard Nick yelling all the way to the bunkhouse," Audra said.

"I talked to him," Jarrod said.

"If you intend to leave the property, you need to tell us, Jarrod," Victoria said.

Jarrod said, "Hmm." Then he retrieved his briefcase, still on the floor next to the stairs, and headed for the library.

"Mother," Audra said, "I think he really did see the man who shot McCall."

"I think he did, too," Victoria said, "and that's another reason we need to know where he's going if he leaves here. If he was right, if Fred finds that man and arrests him – he clearly has friends."

She didn't need to say the rest. Jarrod was the only witness who could tie this man to the shooting and the attempting rustling. That made him a target, and while they had come to trust that he was more observant and more accurate than most men right now, they weren't sure if he was really up to defending himself.

XXXXXXXXX

The next morning, bright and early, Dr. Merar came again to see how Nick and McCall were doing. He wanted McCall to stay in bed and said he'd be back in two more days to take a look at the leg. McCall grumbled, but stayed put.

When he saw Nick, he was happy with what he was seeing. Nick was noticeably more limber than he was before. The gentle stretches in bed were helping. He could get up and straighten up now, with some pain but at least he was straight. "You can stay on this floor and get around with a cane, to get to the wc and back but no more. Keep up with the stretches. And maybe when I come back in a couple days, if you're much improved, I'll let you try the stairs," Dr. Merar said. Nick grumbled, but agreed to do as he was told.

After he left Nick, Dr. Merar came downstairs to Victoria and Audra in the parlor. "How is he doing?" Victoria asked as she and Audra got up to see him to the door.

"Getting grouchier with having to baby himself – that's a good sign," Dr. Merer said. He looked around. "Where is Jarrod?"

"In the library," Audra said.

"I know the way," Dr. Merar said, turning and heading in that direction.

When he got to the library, he found the door open and Jarrod hunched over the desk, working on something. Dr. Merar said hello. Jarrod looked up slowly, then recognized the doctor. "Hello, Doctor," he said and got up. He ushered the doctor to the sofa, saying, "How are Nick and Mac?"

"Both coming along," Dr. Merar said and then explained the instructions he'd given the two injured men. He sat down on the sofa, and Jarrod took one of the chairs nearby. "And how are you?" Dr. Merar asked.

Jarrod nodded. "About the same. Did McCall tell you I saw the man who shot him in town yesterday?"

"Yes, he did, but he said he never saw him," Dr. Merar said. "That leaves you the only witness."

"I know," Jarrod said.

"Are you taking precautions?"

Jarrod nodded.

Dr. Merar nodded, too. "There is something else I need to talk to you about, Jarrod. You know I haven't exactly spread the news about your condition around, but it is getting around anyway."

Jarrod said, "We told the sheriff you said there might be some brain damage."

"Which means that if they do catch this man, I'm going to have to admit that in my opinion, when you saw him, you probably were suffering from a brain injury that affected your judgment."

Jarrod nodded.

Dr. Merar said, "You're a lawyer. Do you think a jury will accept what you have to say?"

"No," Jarrod said quickly and plainly. "I'm hoping more evidence comes to light."

Dr. Merar sighed. "It's a sticky situation all around, Jarrod, and you do have to bow to the fact that you're still struggling with your health."

Jarrod said, "I know. I'm coping, Doctor, just as you said I would figure out how to do."

Dr. Merar smiled. "At some point, as your brain heals, and as your coping mechanisms really settle in, you will probably feel more like your old self."

Jarrod nodded. "I'm all right. Worry about Nick and Mac, doctor."

Dr. Merar stood up, saying, "I am. Keeping your brother in bed when he needs to be there has never been an easy task."

Jarrod stood up with him and showed him to the door. The doctor looked back as Jarrod turned away, and he watched Jarrod head to the French door again, to look out into the yard. No, nothing much had changed for Jarrod yet, at least not from what he could see, but maybe something was happening that he couldn't see yet.

Jarrod heard the door close behind the doctor. He closed his eyes and tried to let things just be, but he had to admit to himself, something was happening. Maybe he didn't feel like he was where he belonged yet, but something was different. Maybe it was seeing the kid who shot McCall in town. Maybe it was just doing the wills he was working on. Maybe it was both. But even if the fog was still there, it wasn't as thick.

But weren't the worries, the concerns, the distractions coming back too? And how did he feel about that? He remembered the calm, the contentment, when he had his moments of not breathing when he was sick, and when he felt less connected to where he was. He was starting to feel less and less that way. He didn't like it.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Jarrod and Heath went into town together that afternoon, heading straight for the sheriff's office, both hoping secretly that they would see a left-handed young man in the sheriff's jail, but that wasn't the case. There was no one there.

"Any luck finding the guy Jarrod told you about, Sheriff?" Heath asked as Jarrod wandered to the cellblock and just looked in there.

Sheriff Madden gave Jarrod a glance. "Yes and no. Jarrod, come here. Sit down."

Jarrod came back, but did not sit down.

"Heath, do you remember that drive that went through a week or two ago?" Sheriff Madden asked.

"Yeah, crew from a place down Modesto way, taking a herd up to market in Sacramento," Heath said.

"They were on their way back the other day, when you were hit and McCall was shot, according to a couple of the saloons around here."

"Where are they now?" Heath asked.

"Further south," Sheriff Madden said. "I haven't been down after them yet, but according to Harry, a young left-handed man with a tan hat came into his place the other night. And I checked with the barber – those two definitely saw the same man you did, and he was with that bunch."

"Pick him up," Jarrod said.

"I will, if I can get to them, but I had to be in court this morning and I only have one deputy covering for me – Jim is off to Lodi. I can't leave until tomorrow."

"If they're heading straight for Modesto, you won't catch up with them until they get there," Heath said. "They have a couple days head start on you."

Jarrod said, "They hit us. They may be hitting others. Stealing their cattle. That'll take time."

"Heath, do you know what the brand was on the cattle they took to Sacramento?" the sheriff asked.

Heath nodded. "A circle eight. Funny brand. Not one I've seen before."

"But one you can fairly easily make out of the Barkley B," Jarrod said. He could see it in his head – round off the hard edges of the B and circle it.

Heath nodded. "That's why they'd have hit us, and they might hit somebody else they can change the brand on without much effort. When you catch them, you should check their branding irons. They might have a few."

The sheriff nodded. "I'll get moving in the morning. But I won't be taking a posse."

Jarrod nodded. He knew there really wasn't any call for one, not since they were already a couple days behind this bunch and the only evidence against this kid was the testimony of a man with brain damage. But he said, "I can go with you and make sure we have the right guy."

Heath's eyes flashed for a moment, but then he thought that if Jarrod was going to be with the sheriff, he should be all right. "If you feel up to it," Heath said, "but maybe there ought to be a posse. If Jarrod is right about this guy, the two of you are gonna be outnumbered by a long shot."

"I feel up to it," Jarrod said.

"I don't know how we'd get a posse up for this - we'll be gone for a couple days at least, maybe more," the sheriff said. "We can't abuse the privilege or we won't be able to get one when we really need it."

"Maybe I ought to go with you at least," Heath tried.

Jarrod shook his head. "You need to be in charge at the ranch."

"If it turns out we need to arrest somebody, I'll get help locally from wherever we are at the time," Sheriff Madden said.

Jarrod asked, "What time do you want me here in the morning?"

Heath knew the decision was made – it would be the sheriff and Jarrod and nobody else. He didn't like it much – and he knew Nick and the women would like it even less – but he didn't argue anymore. He just nodded and hoped for the best.

XXXXXX

Heath was right. Nick nearly blew up when Jarrod told him he would be leaving with the sheriff in the morning and might well be gone for days. "You're not well enough," Nick said flatly.

"I'm fine," Jarrod said. "I'll be with Fred. We won't do anything too risky."

" _Too_ risky," Nick said. "That's not good enough."

Nick just stared at his older brother. At another time, before he was sick, Jarrod might have let into him for being too obstinate and overprotective, but now he just stared and said quietly, "I'm going, Nick. I'll be careful."

Nick growled in frustration. It wasn't like he could stop this from happening, but he sure wanted to. Jarrod might have been more attentive these days, and lately his sentences might have been longer, but he was still not the man he was before he got sick. Being able to hear things and see things others weren't paying attention to didn't mean he was up to carrying a gun and being on the road for days in search of rustlers and a potential killer who could identify him as a witness. But before Nick could argue further, Jarrod turned and left.

Victoria was no happier, but she left her argument at, "I don't think you're really up to it, but I won't stop you if you think it's important."

"It is important," Jarrod assured her.

"You're certain this is the man who shot Mac?"

"I'm certain," Jarrod said.

"Be careful," she said.

Jarrod kissed her and said, "I will," and nothing more was said about it.

In the morning, Jarrod was packed and off to town before the others had even finished breakfast. As he left the table and headed for the front door, Audra put her fork down and said, "I think I've lost my appetite."

XXXXXXX

Sheriff Madden and Jarrod did not catch up with the men they were after on their first day out, even though they had made good time and traveled nearly 30 miles. As the sun began to set, they made camp near a stream, took care of their horses, built a fire and ate, all in virtual silence. The sheriff was not normally a talkative man, and with Jarrod still feeling off kilter, the silence was pretty much guaranteed. But as they ate, the sheriff asked, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Jarrod said.

"Feeling any more like you're with the rest of us yet?"

Jarrod smiled at the way he put that. "Maybe still a few steps out of the firelight," he said. "But I'm all right."

"I guess you haven't seen anything along the way or heard anything that would help us."

"Not yet."

The sheriff sipped his coffee. "You and I need to talk about what we're gonna do with this guy if we find him."

Jarrod nodded. "You said we'd go for help if need be."

"Why don't we approach them easy – just share some coffee, chat a little bit? We can say we're on our way to Modesto to pick up a prisoner. Heath was right, we're gonna be outnumbered by quite a bit. We need to look harmless as long as we can."

"It might work as long as this kid doesn't recognize me," Jarrod said. "He saw me looking at him when he came out of the barber shop."

"A chance we'll have to take, but I'd bet money he won't recognize you."

"Hmm," Jarrod said, and was silent for a little while before he said, "We might be betting more."

The sheriff gave a big sigh. "I didn't want to say anything like this to your family, but I'm sure they know we could be betting our lives. It wouldn't be the first time though, would it?"

Jarrod smiled. "No."

"You keep your eyes and ears open and tell me if you see or hear anything odd – and frankly, I'd bet on us."

Jarrod said, "Thanks for the faith."

Then the sheriff turned more serious. "You'd let me know if you were feeling too far away, wouldn't you?"

Jarrod nodded. "I'm all right."

And maybe a bit better than he was, but he didn't want to say so yet, not until he was more sure. Not until he felt like he could handle the worries and concerns of normal life. He felt like he could handle the stress of confronting rustlers and the man who shot McCall, so long as he wasn't alone, and he wasn't. But he didn't want to lose that edge in his senses that the calm, out of place feeling was giving him, not yet. Even if it was leaving him. He couldn't afford for it to leave him now. Not now.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The next morning, Jarrod and the sheriff ran into a group of men herding cattle. Not a lot of head, maybe thirty or forty, and maybe only six or seven men. Surprisingly, they were moving north.

"This is them," Jarrod said.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"How? Do you see your man?"

"There at the front, heading toward us."

"What do you think? Did they steal this cattle?"

Jarrod nodded again.

"All right," the sheriff said. "Let me do the talking."

Jarrod nodded.

The man in the lead saw Jarrod and the sheriff and looked uncomfortable, but he came away from the others and the herd, out of the field they were moving in and toward the newcomers. He eyed both men carefully, sullenly.

Sheriff Madden made sure his badge was showing as he tipped his hat and said cheerfully, "Good morning. Nice herd you have there. Where are you headed?"

"Sacramento," the man said.

"I'm Sheriff Madden from Stockton. We're headed to Modesto to pick up a prisoner. Didn't I see you boys in Stockton a couple days ago?"

The man nodded once. "Sold a herd up Sacramento last week. Picked this one up yesterday." He didn't say how he picked it up.

Jarrod noticed a couple of other men move away from the herd, flanking him and the sheriff on both sides. Jarrod made sure the man they were talking to knew what he was seeing. He made sure the sheriff knew it too.

Sheriff Madden did see it. "Well, we'll just be moving on," he said. "Good luck with your drive."

The man they had been talking to nodded once. Jarrod and the sheriff turned their horses and continued on south.

As soon as they were out of sight, Sheriff Madden asked Jarrod, "That's our man, huh?"

"Yes," Jarrod said, "and we're not alone."

Sheriff Madden hadn't noticed that. "Riders?"

"Two, maybe three, not far back," Jarrod said. "They may just be checking to see if we keep on going."

"Well, let's play it that way, but if you hear trouble – "

"I'll let you know fast," Jarrod said.

Now that he knew they were there, Sheriff Madden could hear the riders following them, too. He and Jarrod picked up a little speed, to see if the riders would stay with them. They did, but not for long. In only a couple miles, both men heard the riders suddenly gain a lot of speed – but moving away. "Sounds like they're heading back," the sheriff said.

He and Jarrod slowed down again, Jarrod saying, "Hmm."

"We're not too far from Salida," Sheriff Madden said. "Let's go see the sheriff there."

Jarrod nodded, and again they picked up speed. Salida was not far away, but before they ever got there, they both heard a lot of riders heading their way from that direction. They stopped when they spotted them. Sheriff Madden knew right away he was looking at Sheriff Oliver of Salida and six other men, and Oliver knew him. They all stopped.

"Fred," Sheriff Oliver said in greeting. "Believe it or not, we're after a group of cattle rustlers."

"I believe it," Sheriff Madden said. "We are, too, and they're a couple miles further north of us."

"You ran into them?"

"This is Jarrod Barkley. They tried to hit his herd a few days ago but couldn't get away with anything. Shot his foreman, though. We were just coming to get you to get some help getting these guys."

"Let's go, then," Sheriff Oliver said.

They all turned north and began to ride at a decent but not too fast a clip. Sheriff Madden deferred to Sheriff Oliver and asked, "How do you want to do this?"

"Head on," Sheriff Oliver said. "I'd rather not scatter the cattle, but I brought the men to round them back up if we need to."

"Anybody hurt when they stole the cattle?"

"No, but they took every head a local small rancher had, and I nearly had to put him in jail to keep him from coming with us. He's hopping mad."

Riding beside Sheriff Madden, Jarrod overheard the conversation. He wasn't so sure that hitting the rustlers head on was going to do more than scatter everybody and every head of cattle all over the countryside, but he silently resolved that he would get the man who shot McCall. That kid was not going to be getting away. Whatever happened to the rest of it was up to Sheriff Oliver and Sheriff Madden.

And Jarrod realized something then. His determination to get the kid who shot McCall was fueling his return to normalcy. Whether it was by helping his brain or just helping him to cope, he didn't know, but he was sure it was happening. The fog was lifting.

In only a few miles, they were in view of the cattle and men off in the field. Sheriff Oliver kicked his horse into a gallop, and so did the rest of the men. They were doing as the sheriff said they would – hitting the rustlers head on. And it did send them scattering, rushing away from the herd in every direction. Men chased them, and the cattle ran but did not stampede. As soon as the men were out of the way, the cattle stopped, looking around, losing interest.

Jarrod saw the man he was after taking off like wildfire, heading toward the road. Jarrod flew after him as fast as his horse would take him, tearing through a break in the underbrush and into the road, not far behind the man who was trying to get away. Pushing harder, Jarrod got within about fifty feet of the man before a bend in the road took him out of sight. When he rounded the bend, Jarrod slowed. He saw the horse, riderless, on the side of the road nibbling some brush there. The rider was nowhere in sight, but Jarrod knew he was here. There were rocks and bushes and trees that he couldn't see two feet into, but Jarrod knew the man was here. Jarrod stopped, dismounted, listened –

And he realized now that he was actively listening. He wasn't waiting for the sounds to come to him anymore – he was concentrating, listening, and that wouldn't work. Alarmed, he nearly went spinning. Then suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he knew in his soul where he was. He wasn't out of place anymore. He was in the here and now, and it happened with all the sucking feeling that he had experienced when he "died" but was sucked back into his sick body. The fog was gone, sucked off into the air, but so was the sense of calm, and so was the sense of hearing and seeing without trying. The heightened senses that had proven so helpful were gone, and the old attentive Jarrod was sucked back into him.

 _Not now! Not now!_ he thought. And then it was too late to start relying on his old, plainly human concentration. The man he was after jumped from a rock and was on top of him.

Jarrod felt his gun torn away from him, and the man on top of him had his own gun in Jarrod's face. Reflexes took over. Jarrod pushed it away, but the man held onto it, and then they were rolling in the dirt, the man trying to get the gun back on Jarrod, Jarrod seizing the man's wrists, both of them, with everything he had in him. They fought, the gun went off harmlessly. The man tried an elbow to Jarrod's ribs, but it only caught him slightly. Jarrod tried his own elbow to wherever it would hit and got the man below the belt. The man growled and cried and rolled over, losing the gun. Jarrod jumped up, grabbed both discarded guns as fast as he could, and stood over the man.

Man. He was just a kid. He moaned, doubled over in the dirt. Jarrod kept his own gun and threw the kid's gun away into the bushes. "Get up!" Jarrod snarled and pulled the boy to his feet.

The horses had moved, but not very far. They were just looking now, watching as Jarrod dragged the boy to his horse and got him up into the saddle. Jarrod used the kid's own rope to tie his wrists and anchor them to the horn of his saddle. Wordlessly, Jarrod got up onto his own horse and started them both back to where the others were.

But as he moved the boy along ahead of him, Jarrod came to know that the sense of not belonging where he was had completely left him and was not coming back. He was centered and sensible. But the sense of calm had left him too, and so had the feeling that he could hear and see better if he just let it happen. Because he couldn't let it happen anymore. It just wouldn't happen. Now he was completely anchored to the world he hadn't belonged in just ten minutes ago.

And he was mad. Mad at this kid for shooting Duke McCall, mad at him for running, mad at him for fighting him, mad about everything, especially the change that had come over him when it wasn't welcome. As he rode on, the anger rolled over him. By the time they reached the sheriffs, the lawmen had secured everyone else, and the men who had come with Sheriff Oliver were rounding up the cattle that had scattered. Jarrod dismounted, pulled the ropes loose from the saddle and pulled the boy straight down onto the ground, covering him with his pistol. He felt like kicking the kid because he was almost as angry as he'd ever been, but he didn't do it.

"You all right?" Sheriff Madden asked.

Jarrod nodded. "I'm all right. This is the man who shot Mac."

Sheriff Oliver said, "You take him back to Stockton. We'll take care of the rest of these."

Two of the men who had been herding cattle for Sheriff Oliver. rejoined him He nodded to Sheriff Madden when Fred gave him a look that asked if he had the help he needed.

Jarrod pulled the kid to his feet and shoved him back on top of his horse, tying him up to the horn again. Jarrod mounted up as Sheriff Madden fetched his horse, and soon they were on their way back to Stockton.

In virtual silence. They rode the rest of the day and through the entire night, slowing down for the darkness and resting every now and then. Sheriff Madden was concerned about Jarrod, not because he was silent, but because there was an anger and a sullenness about him that he could feel through the air but really couldn't see until they rode into Stockton at sunup. They took their prisoner to the jail and locked him in. Sheriff Madden closed the cellblock door before he turned to Jarrod and said, "You haven't said a word since started hauling this kid here. Are you sure you're all right?"

Jarrod nodded. "I'm fine, Fred. Just – tired, angry. I'm gonna head home and get some sleep."

With no further explanation, Jarrod left, mounted up, and rode home.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Jarrod was almost falling out the saddle by the time he got home, so tired and so wrenched out from everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. He dismounted, giving his good horse a pat on the neck, telling the stable man to give him extra care and food. Then he dragged himself into the house.

Only Victoria and Nick were there – Nick, down in the living room now. Jarrod was a bit surprised to see him but then he remembered the doctor had told him he might be able to come downstairs soon. Nick was on the settee, pillows supporting his back as he rested his legs, knees bent slightly, on the coffee table. "Well! You're home!" he said but did not get up.

Victoria, sitting in one of the armchairs, turned and got up to greet Jarrod. She came to him as he left his hat, gloves and gunbelt in the hall and came back to the foyer. She kissed him on the cheek – and knew immediately that something was wrong. "Tired?" she asked.

"Very," Jarrod said. "We rode all night. I could use some coffee."

"I'll have Silas bring you some," Victoria said and headed to the kitchen.

Jarrod came into the living room and fell down into his thinking chair, aware he would probably catch it from his mother for not changing his clothes before he did but he was so tired he couldn't face the steps yet. Nick eyed him. "Did you catch them?"

Jarrod nodded. "We did. The kid who shot Mac is in Fred's jail." He closed his eyes.

Nick said, "You ought to look happier. Too tired?"

Jarrod nodded.

"You did good work. You ought to be proud about that. I know Mac will appreciate it."

Jarrod nodded again, then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands over his eyes.

Nick knew something more was going on. Jarrod looked almost depressed, heartbroken. That wasn't right. "What's going on, Pappy? What happened?"

Jarrod sighed and sat up. "I came back to earth, Nick. As I was catching that kid, all the fog lifted. All the sense of not belonging where I was just vanished and I felt more like myself than I've felt in weeks. So why do I feel so sorry about it?"

"Sorry? I think you'd be pretty happy."

"I'd have thought so, too, but the calm left, too. The feeling that I could hear and see better if I just let things be, let it happen – that's all gone too. And I feel – lost. Found and lost all at the same time."

"It's change," Victoria said. She was returning from the kitchen and heard what he said. She sat down in the chair beside his and reached for his hand. "You were adjusting to the way you felt before, and it all shifted on you again."

Jarrod nodded, sighed. "It seems all wrong. I should be happy to feel like I belong here again, and I am, but…" He couldn't find the words.

"But there's also a loss," Victoria said.

Jarrod nodded again. "And I'm mourning the loss even though it seems foolish to do it. There was a peace, a calm, and even that sense of not belonging was getting to be comfortable. Then, it started slipping away, and then suddenly, just like it happened when I was sick and stopped breathing, all the fog was sucked out and all the normalcy was sucked back into me."

"Perhaps because you were in pursuit of those rustlers," Victoria said. "Perhaps because you needed it to come back into you. Dr. Merar said something to Mac about the brain taking care of you in an emergency, about giving you something you need to cope."

Nick said, "Maybe that's what happened. Maybe your foggy brain thought you needed to be thinking more clearly, so it gave you a jolt of whatever it gives you to do that."

Jarrod nodded. "Maybe."

Victoria squeezed his hand. "Give it time. You'll adjust to the old you, too."

Jarrod sighed, a weary sigh. "That's a crazy thought, isn't it? To have to adjust to being yourself again."

"You were pretty sick, Jarrod," Nick said. "Something happened to you that was way out of the ordinary."

"I died," Jarrod said. "I died, and I came back but not all the way. And now I'm back all the way."

Silas came in with a tray of coffee and three cups. "Welcome home, Mr. Jarrod," he said as he put the tray down on the coffee table.

"Thank you, Silas," Jarrod said, smiling at the irony.

Silas left as Jarrod poured some coffee for himself, his mother and his brother. After handing them their cups and sipping a bit from his own, Jarrod leaned back into his chair.

"It'll take a while, but you'll feel better," Victoria said.

"Hmm," Jarrod said, and for a moment he sounded like the Jarrod who didn't belong here again, but he drank some more coffee and said, "I'm still going to have to cope with something. When the kid who shot McCall comes to trial, I'm going to have to explain myself, because that kid's gonna deny it was him who shot McCall. And I'm going to have to explain how I knew what I saw when I was brain injured at the time."

"You'll feel more stable by then," Nick said.

"And you have some time to put it all together," Victoria said.

"Hmm," Jarrod said again, and for a moment he did disappear back into that place inside him that said he didn't belong here, that said he belonged soaring in the sky and looking down and seeing everything, but it didn't last. It was a memory now, not something he could feel as he had felt it before. Before it had been a feeling that was real. A feeling he would go to sleep with at night and wake up with in the morning. A feeling he already missed, inexplicably.

He finished his coffee and got up, brushing off the chair. "I'm sorry, Mother, I was so tired I just had to sit down."

"The chair will recover," Victoria said. "So will you."

Jarrod gave her a smile and a kiss. "I'm gonna go out and tell Mac we got the man who shot him, and then I'm gonna go upstairs and take a long bath, and have a shave, and take a long nap. Nick, don't drink all my scotch."

Nick chuckled as Jarrod went off toward the front door. "How can I drink it all? You hid it!"

"Where you'll never find it!" Jarrod called as he went out the door.

Victoria smiled at Nick. "I know he's not entirely sure he's happy to be back with us, but I am."

"Were you worried?"

"A little. I knew he'd adjust to whatever he had to adjust to, but I missed him. I'm glad he's back."

Outside, Jarrod stopped for a moment and looked all around him at all the places and things he knew. Then he looked up at the sky, remembering how he'd told Nick how good it would feel to fly up into the stars, but now it didn't feel that way. Sucked back down to earth, he thought, and again felt foolish for mourning the loss of that sensation of not belonging, the sensation that now was gone. But mourn it he did. It had been a strange sensation and it was disconcerting, but it was wonderful, too. And no one would ever understand that but him.

He gave a sigh and let it drift up to the heavens. It would take time, but he knew he'd adjust to his old regular self. Now, he just bid good-bye to the Jarrod Barkley he'd been living with over the past few weeks and let that man stay a memory. There was life to live and work to do down here. Jarrod Barkley, Esquire was back where he belonged.

The End


End file.
